


see me in a better light

by noeller



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Liberal use of Italics, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noeller/pseuds/noeller
Summary: 5 times ian and mickey forget to shut their door and 1 time they don’t have to remember
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 77
Kudos: 550





	see me in a better light

**1\. Lip**

It’s been a rough day.

Tami’s mad at him again. It’s not as bad as it used to be, since she’s been trying to take it easier on him since his relapse, but renovating a house is a notoriously bad activity for couples that fight a lot, and he’s getting a full face of that today. He thinks they should just keep the kitchen cabinets they have, deal with it when they have to if they fall apart because that’s how he’s done things for his entire life, but Tami isn’t having it. She thinks they’re dangerous and need to be dealt with now, before Fred gets old enough to get into things like that, even though they’re way too tight on time and money to dive into that kind of project.

They’re pretty sure Fred is teething. He keeps screaming all night, and they’re both exhausted, which is only making the fighting worse, and the combination of those things and Debbie’s fate still being so up in the air is making the beers in the fridge way too tempting for his liking. Tami’s at work, but he needs a fucking meeting, and as much as he loves his son, he needs to be without his crying for an hour or two.

He heads up the steps fully aware that Mickey is probably going to threaten to skin him alive for interrupting the first day off him and Ian have had together since the honeymoon gone wrong. He’s definitely mellowed out since he first got locked up years ago, and Lip would probably even consider him a friend these days, but there’s a line between reacting and overreacting that Mickey never _quite_ learned how to draw, especially when it comes to his relationship with Ian, but Lip can deal with that if he can just have a little time to get his shit together. Plus, he knows Ian will be fine with it. He’s obsessed with Freddie, and he was the most supportive after Lip’s relapse, so he’ll understand that Lip needs this.

He walks quietly, just to be safe. Mickey only came downstairs this morning long enough to grab two pop tarts and some coffee, and he hasn’t even seen Ian. God only knows what those two can get up to with that much uninterrupted time, and he’s not so eager to see or hear any of the possibilities. At first he thinks he’s safe, because the accordion door is isn’t closed, and they know better than to fuck with the door open, even if the house is supposed to be empty.

Then, he briefly changes his mind about them knowing better. Ian is straddling Mickey, sitting on his lap and pinning his wrists to the mattress. Lip steps back, ready to flee the scene and avoid an angry Milkovich with blue balls, but upon further inspection, the position they’re in isn’t even sexual. They’re freshly showered and partially dressed and just smiling at each other, having a conversation in the weirdest way possible, and Lip can’t help but look at them for a minute. They look happy, and the last time he remembers seeing Ian even _close_ to this relaxed was a couple hours after the time Lip had to talk him into popping a valium because he was manic and starting to get destructive. It’s never been so _real_ , and as Ian leans down, adjusting himself so he can stay where he is and still give Mickey a few kisses that they both smile into, he realizes that it’s beautiful, and also that he’s intruding like a huge fucking creep.

“Hey, lovebirds!” He expects them to separate as he approaches their room, but Ian just sits up, releasing Mickey’s wrists but staying on his lap, and Mickey seems perfectly content with that, making no moves to sit up, but putting his hand on Ian’s thighs, right below where his boxers hit him, and gently stroking with his thumbs. Knowing the two of them, it honestly shocks him that that can be done _without_ sexual intent, but it seems more absentminded than anything, so he doesn’t worry too much. 

“Think you can watch him for a bit?” he asks. Ian looks to Mickey, who’s just glaring back at Lip. “Just for an hour or two. I need a meeting.” At that, Ian gets off Mickey -- who pouts, actually fucking pouts -- and sits on the edge of the bed with his arms out. “With pants on?” Lip suggests. Ian rolls his eyes dramatically, but grabs a pair of sweats and throws a shirt at Mickey, who grudgingly puts it on and gets up, taking the baby from Lip.

“You owe us, Gallagher,” he says, even though everyone in the room, including Freddie, knows Mickey isn’t gonna hold him to shit. He knows how this family works at this point, even if he does act like a grumpy asshole about it sometimes.

“Yeah, alright. Just keep it PG in front of my kid,” he says, rushing down the stairs before he can hear any more of Mickey’s bitching.

\---

He comes back two hours later feeling a thousand times better. Although he’s halfway expecting for Freddie to have been handed off to anyone else that’s walked in the door, he’s pleasantly surprised to find Ian and Mickey on the couch and Freddie standing on Ian’s lap, being supported by his younger brother’s stupidly large hands as he happily bounces up and down. That is, until he looks at the TV and sees someone’s head being cut off and some nasty looking CGI blood.

“Jesus, what are you showing him?” he asks, letting himself in and taking a seat in the armchair.

“Fuckin’ _please_ , he’s too busy drooling in Ian’s hair to give a shit about that,” Mickey says, and as if to prove his point, Fred takes his hand out of his mouth and gives Ian’s hair a good tug with it. It’s hard to be sympathetic when Ian barely flinches, though. All the methods he’s gone through keeping his hair straight over the years, he can handle a little pulling from a baby’s slobbery fist, and his lack of complaint is partially why he was everyone’s favorite babysitter until he took off with Yevgeny and everyone stopped trusting him with their kids. He knows it’s a big deal to Ian that Lip and Tami trust him with Freddie, and that’s another reason Mickey’s frustration with him taking up their time is never really genuine.

“Everything okay?” Ian asks, and Lip realizes he’s probably been staring at him for a moment too long, so he nods.

“Yeah, just stuff with Tami, you know?” Ian nods sympathetically, but Mickey snorts.

“She said you’re fighting about cabinets. Just give her what she wants or the fight keeps going ‘til you do, man. Happy wife, happy life, right?” Ian rolls his eyes, but Mickey either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“She’s not my wife.”

“Yeah, and I’m not yours,” Ian says, nudging Mickey with his elbow.

“Oh, is that right?” he asks with a teasing tone, his eyebrows raised in a way that isn’t as threatening as it used to be and occasionally still is. He just looks soft right now.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Ian smiles, and Mickey cups the back of his head to kiss him, and Lip doesn’t like where it looks like it’s leading.

“Alright,” he says, getting up to take Fred from Ian’s arms, “gimme my kid and take your foreplay somewhere else.” Mickey smirks, grabbing Ian by the hand and pulling him up.

“Happy to,” and then they’re off up the stairs, Ian calling _bye, Lip_ over his shoulder.

Marriage looks fucking good on them.

**2\. Fiona**

2 years after she really left and 6 months after Ian’s wedding, Debbie’s arrest, and Lip’s relapse, Fiona finally works up the nerve to go back home for the week.

It’s scary, but it was always gonna be scary to go back for the first time, and she needed to get it done. She misses her kids so much, and she feels guilty for not being there when life decided to fuck them all over again. Things have settled down now, and she can’t say she’s not relieved that she’s not going home to any _severe_ Gallagher drama, but the next time there is some -- and there will be a next time -- she wants to be there for them. Maybe not in the way she used to be, but just as a supporter, an older sister that has some of her shit together sometimes.

The reunion is emotional. She knew it would be, because she cried at just the _thought_ of seeing them when she was buying the plane ticket, but that’s nothing compared to hugging Liam again, meeting her nephew in person for the first time, reintroducing herself to her niece that only really knows her through facetime, and seeing Mickey for the first time in over five years, only as a legal relative this time around.

She takes Ian’s old bed during her stay. It’s kind of weird with Carl in the room, but there are so many people in and out at weird hours that she wouldn’t be able to sleep through the night on the couch, and knowing that Ian worked a double and probably got in around 3am makes her grateful that she didn’t hear it, especially when she wakes up to a screaming match between Debbie and Lip at 7am.

Apparently, that’s the new normal here. Debbie’s kind of losing it over the whole being convicted and labeled a sex offender thing, and Fiona gets it, she does, but Debbie has a kid that’s _hers_ that she _wanted_ , and it’s not fair that a teenager, the parent of a one-year-old, and two newlyweds are stuck taking care of so much while Debbie spends a lot of her time working and a lot spending the money from her minimum wage job on partying. She’ll get over it soon. Fiona _knows_ she will, but that doesn’t make the current situation any easier. Not with Ian working irregular hours to prove to his old supervisor that he can handle it and Lip still struggling to make this whole family thing work for him and Tami.

Fiona’s not gonna get involved, though. That’s not why she’s here.

She’s awake now, so she gets up to brush her teeth. Carl is snoring right through Debbie’s tirade about how much she’s done for the family over the last few years and how they need to support her right now while she’s struggling, and it feels familiar in a way that makes it hard to breathe for a few seconds. Fiona has to remind herself that she got out, she got better, she made something of herself. She’ll never hold what she did for them over their heads again because they needed her and she loves them, and it’s not their fault.

When she gets to the hallway, she realizes that the door to Mickey and Ian’s room is open, and she looks in to make sure the fight hasn’t disturbed Ian, who’s been asleep for four hours at the most, and she sees Mickey and Ian spooning, asleep so close together that she can’t tell whose legs are whose under the sheet. Ian’s holding Mickey’s wrist, and the contrast of their wedding bands against their pale skin make them so obvious that she wants to _cry_ about how her brother’s life has worked out for him, no matter how many times he’s fallen down.

She used to mourn for him, the fact that he’d never have that. She knew bipolar people were too hard to live with for anyone to willingly choose it, but she’s done her fair share of underestimating Mickey, she guesses.

She googled it, once, out of sheer curiosity when she heard from Debbie how much Ian was struggling with the idea of getting married. She read that roughly 90% of marriages with a bipolar spouse end in divorce, and it made her chest feel heavy, thinking about Ian and how hard he loves and how difficult it was gonna be. She still wonders if he ever saw that, if it was part of why he was so scared, but she doesn’t bring it up. She worries it might set him off if he’s never heard it, and that’s the last thing he needs.

She tries to block that out of her mind. Instead, she thinks about how happy and safe they both look, and how much they fucking deserve that. She’s seen them sleeping like this before, but that was when they were teenagers sharing Ian’s single bed and they _had_ to cling so neither of them would fall off. They’re married now, and it’s too warm in the house for them to possibly be comfortable sleeping so close, but she can’t argue with the way they look together.

\---

Lip has left with the kids, and Debbie has gone back up to bed by the time Mickey makes his way downstairs in an awful blue polo that she can’t possibly _not_ laugh at, but he takes it in his stride, flipping her off and going to the kitchen to put a piece of bread in the toaster and a fair amount of lukewarm coffee in a mug that makes a _clink_ against his rings when he grabs it out of the cabinet.

“Love the baby blue. Suits you.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he flips her off again with his free hand.

“Better than the last get up. Yellow ain’t my color.” She smiles, taking a sip of her own coffee and wondering if it’s super fucked up that she actually missed the taste of this nasty shit when she bought an actual _nice_ coffeemaker. “How was Carl’s room?”

She snorts. “Always thought he’d grow out of the snoring.”

“Mhm, I almost fuckin’ strangled him once before we moved outta that room.” His toast pops up, and he leaves it there, instead grabbing a bowl and the milk and pouring himself some cereal. She gives him a curious look. “His majesty up there keeps forgetting to take his meds when he gets up late,” he explains.

“I can remind him. You don’t have to wake him up,” she points out, but Mickey keeps doing what he’s doing.

“Nah, it’s fine. He’s used to it. Plus, he’ll be a whiny bitch all day if I don’t kiss him before I leave.” She learned years ago how to hear what Mickey’s _really_ saying when he sounds like he’s being an ass, and she smiles at the idea of him and Ian exchanging disgustingly domestic ‘good morning and have a good day’ kisses every day. He gets a little flustered when he notices, looking down to avoid her eyes and taking a few huge spoonfuls of cereal, knowing she hates it when people talk with full mouths, so she won’t ask any more questions.

They don’t really say much as he eats his breakfast and drinks his coffee. They got along just fine back when he was living here the first time, but they never really talked about anything but Ian, and without that buffer of him being sick and the two of them being responsible for him and needing to work together, they don’t actually know much about each other. Maybe they would if she still lived here, because it seems like Mickey has opened up even more, making a space in his life for all the Gallaghers and even Tami, but she’s fine with it. She has plenty of time to get to know her brother-in-law, now that they’re all officially legally bound and shit.

Once he’s done with his cereal, he starts buttering the toast. He pretends she’s not watching him, and she lets him. It’s the kind of sweet gesture that made Fiona actually start to like Mickey back when she assumed he was some thug keeping Ian from getting help for purely selfish reasons. They’re all older and wiser now, and they all know that everyone just wanted what was best for Ian, but she understands that he might still be a little wary of her. She’s not privy to the way their relationship works now, and there’s always a chance Ian has spoken badly about her when telling Mickey about the events between them fleeing to Mexico and going to prison, but she doesn’t let it bother her. They’ll get there eventually.

Mickey finishes with the toast and throws all his dishes into the sink. It’s Carl’s day to wash up, according to the chart on the fridge, but she might handle it, help them out a little before she heads to the Alibi to catch up with V. Mickey grabs a bottle of gatorade and barely spares Fiona a glance as he heads back up the stairs.

For so long, she thought they were doomed from the second Ian was diagnosed, but these days, she’s starting to think they’ll make it.

**3\. Liam**

There’s a boy at school that keeps staring at Liam.

People stare at Liam for a lot of reasons. He’s Frank Gallagher’s not-possibly-biological son. His brother is Gay Jesus. He’s black in a racist country. He knows all those looks, though, and this isn’t any of them. It’s something that he doesn’t really recognize, but he thinks he might have an idea.

He heads up the stairs as soon as he gets home. He knows Ian is here, and Liam’s pretty sure he’ll understand. When he reaches the second floor, though, he sees Ian’s head near Mickey’s ass, and he shields his eyes immediately.

At first glance, he thinks he’s walked in on something he was truly hoping to never see, but then he realizes that they would’ve taken care to close the door if that were the case since Liam comes home at this time almost every day. Also, Mickey’s wearing pants, but that doesn’t seem like it would be a huge obstacle for them.

When he works up the courage to look back up from the floor, he studies the scene a little closer. Firstly, Mickey’s on his stomach against the wall where the pillows normally go, and they’re shoved under his chin so he can rest his head on them. He doesn’t quite fit laying all the way down, so his socked feet are up in the air, partially resting on the wall, and he’s staring at something on the laptop no one knows how they got, off to his side and facing both of them. Secondly, Ian is most definitely asleep.

Liam takes a step forward, and that’s when Mickey notices him. He pauses whatever he was watching and looks at Liam, but otherwise doesn’t bother moving. “You need something?” he asks.

“Is Ian using your ass as a pillow?” Mickey shrugs as much as he can in his position.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“He’s a freak.” Liam looks at his older brother. His hand is splayed across Mickey’s bare back and his mouth is partially open. Liam isn’t ashamed to admit that after everything that’s happened with Ian, he sometimes checks to make sure he’s still there in the middle of the night. He looks the exact same way he always looks when he sleeps, and Liam just doesn’t understand the appeal here. Mickey seems to realize that his answer hasn’t satisfied Liam, because he reaches back and starts poking Ian until he grumbles and tries to swat at Mickey’s hand. “Why’re you using my ass as a pillow?” he asks.

“Soft,” Ian mutters, turning his head to kiss it before settling back down. It’s gentle. It looks as sweet and innocent as someone literally kissing someone else’s ass can possibly look, and with the heart eyes Mickey’s giving Ian, Liam would be convinced that it _was_ , if not for the fact that he could very clearly hear Mickey telling Ian to go harder through the bathroom wall when he was getting out of the shower the previous night, and with that, he’s officially seen enough, and he walks off to his room.

\---

He walks back by their room a couple minutes later. He’s bored and eager for someone else to be home, because he doesn’t want to interrupt the weird date Ian and Mickey are having, but Mickey must notice he’s looking for something to do, because he says, “Hey, kid,” the third time Liam walks by and gestures for him to come in their room. “If you get me the bag of peanut butter cups outta that drawer, I’ll share ‘em.”

He looks to where Mickey’s pointing and opens the top drawer of their dresser to find a couple boxes of kind bars and various chocolate candies. “We keep our good snacks in there so your fuckin’ heathen brother and his friends don’t take ‘em all. Don’t tell anyone.” Liam hands him the bag and assumes Carl is the heathen, because the title doesn’t really fit Lip. He expects Mickey to just give him a handful of his candy, but he pats the spot next to him on the bed, so Liam sits down. “Find a movie if you want. I’m stuck here so fuckin’ sleeping beauty can take his nap.”

Liam looks back at his brother, still in the exact same position as before. “Is that comfortable for you?” he asks.

“For now. I’ll make him move if I start getting numb.”

Liam nods. “Can I ask you something?” he asks instead of scrolling through the selection of movies on the netflix homepage. No one knows how they got that, either, because there’s not a chance in hell they’re paying the subscription fee, but they share sometimes, so nobody bothers to ask.

Mickey pops a peanut butter cup into his mouth. “Sure.”

“How old were you and Ian when you started dating.” Mickey laughs a little. Liam always gets a little too proud when something he says makes Mickey laugh, but he seems more amused by the wording than what Liam actually said.

“Never really dated. We fucked for a few years, then hurt each other a couple times, then he was my boyfriend and we lived together. We were 15 and 16 when we started fucking, though.”

One of Liam’s favorite things about Mickey is that he never acts like Liam is a dumb kid, but that also leads to him knowing stuff that he doesn’t really _want_ to know, like Ian and Mickey’s dynamic as teenage fuckbuddies, for example. Still, it’s useful information. “How did you know he’s gay?”

Mickey snorts. “He’s a fuckin’ drama queen. He yelled it at my sister in the alley outside our house. Coulda got himself killed like that, but he always loved doing stupid shit.”

“So how did he know you’re gay?”

“Popped a boner when I was sitting on his chest.” Mickey eats another peanut butter cup, and Liam grabs one, too.

“Why were you sitting on him?”

“We were fighting and I was winning. Dumb fuck left his coat and gloves on. Coulda taken me otherwise.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes after that. Liam starts reviewing the movie choices and sees Mickey smile fondly out of the corner of his eye every time Ian twitches or makes a noise in his sleep, and suddenly, he finds the courage to ask the question he's wanted to ask for a while.

“Are you guys gonna leave?” he asks, unable to look at Mickey as he does.

“Leave what?”

“Move out. Fiona and Lip did.”

Mickey looks thoughtful for a few seconds. He normally says whatever he’s thinking and doesn’t bother actually considering his responses unless he’s talking about something serious with Ian, so Liam appreciates it. “At some point. Probably not anytime soon.” Liam nods, feeling nervous about it. Fiona never said goodbye, and Lip just wasn’t in his room one day and never really came back. He doesn’t want the same thing to happen with Ian. “Hey, man, we’ll get a real comfy couch so you can stay with us whenever you want, alright?”

“Really?” 

“Sure. Your brother loves you. He doesn’t want you to be alone. And anyways, you’ve always been my second favorite Gallagher.” If Ian were awake, Mickey would’ve called Liam his favorite just to antagonize his husband, but he’s not gonna risk letting Liam think he’s the _actual_ favorite when Ian can’t defend his title, and he can respect that. He knows the words are probably true, anyway. According to Fiona, he was pretty calm and quiet when Mickey first got involved with the whole family, and that’s something Mickey appreciates, even now, even though he married Ian, who might be the biggest wild card in the family and probably always has been, based on Mickey’s brief account of what they were like as teenagers.

“Do you have us ranked?”

“‘Course. Gotta make sure I keep my priorities in order.” Now that he’s mentioned it, that does make sense. Mickey’s always telling Carl ‘no’ when he’s doing something for Lip or Liam, but he’ll drop all of them in a fucking second for Ian, even if it’s not important.

And for that, Liam asks, “Who’s your least favorite?”

“Ain’t it obvious? Frank.”

By the time Ian wakes up, there’s an abandoned movie and a substantial pile of candy wrappers on the bed, and Liam feels more settled than he has since Lip moved out.

**4\. Carl**

Growing up in the Gallagher house, there was kind of an understanding that you didn’t _really_ catch someone fucking unless you saw cock. They didn’t have the space to fuck in private. Carl knows for a fact that Lip’s gotten a blowjob with him in the room and _multiple_ blowjobs with Ian in the room, mostly when he was asleep, but Carl still thinks it counts. The whole block probably heard Fiona and Jimmy’s foreplay a couple times. Carl fucked Cassidi dozens of times with Ian and Liam in the room. The only time he knows about someone getting upset about sex in the house was when Fiona caught Debbie with Derek, but considering Franny arrived about 9 months after that day, Fiona had a good reason to freak out.

So when Ian and Mickey get married, it’s weird, because Ian _never_ used to have sex at home. He’d leave for days sometimes just to meet up with dudes. The first time Mickey came around, he was too closeted to risk it, at least when other people were in earshot, and the second time, Ian was apparently too medicated to get it up. He brought Trevor around a handful of times, but if they fucked, they were silent and no one knew, so there’s honestly a real possibility that the first time Ian ever had sex in this house was when Mickey got out of prison. He knows that Ian _has_ had plenty of sex. He’s heard Lip call him a slut, he’s given Carl advice about what is and isn’t appealing when it comes to dicks, and he worked in a literal strip club.

But it’s weird seeing him and Mickey get handsy in the kitchen. The upstairs bathroom has always pretty much been a free-for-all, but they have to knock now when Ian and Mickey are in there, just in case they’re interrupting. Everyone makes a special effort to avoid walking in front of their door in the morning, because even though they’re pretty considerate about the noise, conditioned by publicly fucking in a homophobic neighborhood and having an actual relationship in prison, there’s only so much they can do when their door is a sheet of vinyl instead of an actual door, and it’s not like anyone in this family, besides Tami, gives a shit about hearing anyone else getting laid, but it almost feels like an intrusion when it’s Ian and Mickey. With everyone else, it’s mostly just sex, but with them, it’s _so_ personal, so loving.

Today, Carl is running late for work, and of course, he _had_ to forget his phone in his sweatpants pocket when he put on his office assistant costume. Most people would probably just call it a shirt and khakis, but Carl’s undercover, so it’s a costume. A costume without his goddamn phone in it.

Unfortunately, he needs the thing. He records shit on it, and he keeps the guy he’s snitching to updated throughout the day, so now, he’s running back home in Ian’s Gay Jesus church boy shoes he found in the closet, and they sure as hell aren’t running shoes.

He rushes inside when he gets home, and he can hear Ian and Mickey’s lips smacking before he even gets all the way upstairs. Mickey’s job doesn’t start until 10am on weekdays, and Ian’s schedule isn’t consistent at all, so they’re actually left alone for a few hours a decent amount, and although it’s hard to believe that they’d waste that time making out, they _are_ obsessed with each other’s mouths. Franny once said something about Ian kissing Mickey’s chest on the couch, and Debbie got mad, thinking they were doing something in front of her kid, but it turned out that Ian was just kissing Mickey’s tattoo. Why, they never explained, but they weren’t up to anything.

He risks a look at their open door when he’s walking back out of his room, phone in hand. Mickey’s laying on his back, and Ian’s hovering over him at a weird angle. One of his arms is under Mickey’s neck, and both of Mickey’s hands are on Ian’s shoulders. There’s a hand he can’t see, but the sheet is covering pretty much everything below the belt, so he doesn’t think anything of it until Ian shifts his arm and Mickey grunts into his mouth, visibly tightening his grip on Ian’s skin and leaving absolutely no room for doubting the fact that Ian’s missing hand is up Mickey’s ass.

Carl smiles conspiratorially. He’s never really had a chance to interrupt them and get them all flustered. He’s always thought it would be funny to see how Mickey reacts, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to figure it out, but then Ian smiles at the sound Mickey makes, mutters, “Love you,” against his husband's lips, and Mickey responds by pulling him even closer and kissing him even deeper.

Carl decides not to ruin their moment. He walks away, but doesn’t get far enough to miss hearing Mickey say, “Move, bitch,” and then moaning again a second later.

\---

That night is one of those rare nights where everyone is out pretty late, and Carl’s just enjoying having the couch and TV to himself when the front door opens and the previously muffled voices of Ian and Mickey are suddenly right behind him and loud.

“In what fuckin’ world was that ever gonna go well for you, man?” Mickey asks. Carl would expect that kind of thing to be said in anger, but it’s just sarcastic and teasing, and Mickey sounds like he’s smiling. Ian _giggles_ , and it’s so unlike his muscled, superhero-looking brother that Carl looks back, just to check that it _is_ actually Ian, and sees him with his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, stumbling like a baby deer with a stupidly dopey smile on his face. 

“I knew you’d defend my honor, husband.” Mickey huffs, but he also looks down to hide his blush. The way both of them still react to the word ‘husband’ after eight months of marriage blows his damn mind.

“Are you drunk?” Carl asks, just for clarity's sake. 

“Lil’ bit,” Ian says, holding onto Mickey as they both toe their shoes off.

“Yeah, alright, ‘lil’ bit’. Sit your ass down.” Mickey shoves Ian closer to the couch, and Ian complies with his order, flopping down near the opposite end from Carl. Mickey goes into the kitchen, and Carl can hear him filling a cup with water. Ian leans back, and his eyes start drooping for a second, but he perks up again as soon as Mickey is back in his sight. He makes his way to the couch and sits next to Ian, who pulls himself closer and smushes his cheek against Mickey’s shoulder. “Drink,” he says, pushing the cup to Ian’s face and making sure he takes it before letting go. Ian drains it all in just a few seconds, then rubs his nose against Mickey’s face like a damn cat.

“What happened?” Carl asks, amused by seeing his brother like this. Fiona and Lip are awful drunks, and for years, the priority when they’re wasted has been keeping them safe or sobering them up. Frank, you always want to avoid at all costs, but Ian just seems happy and probably horny for his husband.

“We got off at the same time-”

“Fuck yeah we did,” Ian interjects, seeming way too fucking pleased with his joke. Mickey has to bite back a smile, but Ian’s not paying close enough attention to notice.

“I’m gonna knock your fuckin’ teeth out,” Mickey says, trying and failing to actually sound threatening.

“Do it, pussy,” Ian says, then grabs Mickey’s face and kisses him hard. Mickey gets into it, kissing back with just as much force, and Carl is about to leave them to their fucked up mating ritual when Mickey tears his face away from Ian’s grip and takes a couple deep breaths.

“Man, you’re gonna pass out. You ain’t givin’ me blue balls tonight.” Ian pouts, but seems to accept it, because he puts his head back on Mickey’s shoulder and _doesn’t_ try to grab his dick, which Carl honestly thought he’d try. “Anyways,” Mickey says, turning some of his attention back to Carl, “we went out with his coworkers, and Thumbelina over here got excited and had a couple whiskeys.”

“They were calling me a lightweight.”

“You’re a fucking medically diagnosed lightweight, Ian,” Mickey says incredulously. “They’re EMTs. They know that. I’m pretty sure Sue was filming you on her phone, so good luck with that tomorrow.” Ian hugs Mickey’s waist, seeming to entirely ignore what he’s saying, and Mickey sighs, running a hand through Ian’s already slightly messy hair.

“Isn’t Thumbelina the really tiny one?” Carl asks.

“Yeah, bitch probably gets hammered in, like, two seconds. Same as this one.” Carl shrugs. Fair enough.

Carl goes back to his show, and Ian and Mickey stay quiet. He assumes they’re watching, too, but not even two minutes later, Mickey laughs quietly, and Carl looks over to see Ian leaning heavily on him, unable to keep his eyes open and already starting to drool on his husband’s shirt. “Fuckin’ knew it,” Mickey says.

And as Mickey hauls Ian off the couch, trying to corral his ‘stupid fucking alien limbs’ long enough to get both of them upstairs uninjured, Carl just appreciates the fact that Mickey Milkovich’s ass has apparently created the only happy drunk in the Gallagher family.

**5\. Debbie**

Life as a young, single mom has always been hectic, but it’s been on a new level since Debbie got arrested. She’s working minimum wage, living paycheck to paycheck and relying on her family to help her feed and take care of her daughter. They do it, because they love her and Franny, but she knows they’re getting sick of it, and she _does_ feel bad taking anything from Mickey considering she was part of the whole thing that ruined his life for a good 5 years and got off scot free, but she can’t really say that without revealing her role in Mickey’s arrest to Ian, and she’s not 100% sure he’d ever forgive her.

So she does what she always does and hands Franny off to the oldest person available whenever she needs to go out to work or meet her parole officer. Today’s babysitter just so happened to be Mickey.

Most of the time, it does happen to be Ian or Mickey. They spend most of the time they don’t spend working at home. Ian got off parole almost six months early for some reason -- Mickey teased him about what an undesirable parolee he became when he willingly married into the Milkovich family, but Debbie _does_ wonder if that actually had something to do with it. Mickey’s PO is, according to him, ‘a huge fucking pussy’ that feels bad about the Paula situation and meets Mickey during his lunch break at work to accommodate him, so work schedules are really the only thing she has to consider when she needs one of them to watch Franny.

She gets home late. She’s been working as a cashier at a 24-hour gas station, and the late shifts are the absolute fucking worst. She has to force herself to stay awake since she gets so few customers, and over half of those customers are stoned teenagers coming in for cheetos and soda, and they ask too many questions and whine too much when she explains that no, she can’t sell them an e-cig, even if they don’t get the nicotine cartridge with it.

She’s dreading the state she’s going to find her daughter in when she walks inside. Mickey can’t handle crying and will do some pretty messy activities with Franny to avoid upsetting her, but he also feels weird about helping her in the bath, so that usually only gets done if one of her brothers is up to the task when they get home, so when she gets to her bedroom and finds Franny asleep with her damp hair brushed back, she’s beyond fucking relieved. She grabs some clothes to sleep in and heads down the hall to wash off the scent that always clings to her hair and clothes every time she leaves work, noticing on the way that Ian and Mickey’s door is open and the light is on, and she’s knocking on the wall before she takes the time to see the state they’re in.

Ian’s sitting all the way in the corner, his back against the wall and his knees pulled close to his chest. Mickey’s sitting next to him, angled to face him, with his hand on the back of Ian’s neck, and they both look stressed and worried when their whispers stop and they look up to see her standing there. She hears herself asking, “Are you okay?” before she can remind herself that she should probably just leave it alone.

“We’re fine. The fuck you want?” Mickey asks, grabbing Ian’s hand possessively when he puts it on Mickey’s leg to calm him down. Mickey’s nowhere near as harsh as he used to be -- not with the Gallaghers, anyway -- and he’s _so_ much better at calmly dealing with things, as long as Terry isn’t involved, but knowing him like she does, Debbie doubts he’ll ever be completely rid of his instinct to turn into Ian’s personal fucking guard dog when he feels like there’s a real threat to his husband’s health or safety.

“Just wanted to thank you for watching Franny,” she says.

“Okay, good fucking night.”

“ _Mick_ ,” Ian says. Mickey visibly calms down, leaning a little further into Ian, but not stopping the harsh look he’s giving her. “We’ll talk in the morning, Debs.” Ian sounds tired, and Debbie knows better than to argue, so she turns around, going into the bathroom.

She passes by again ten minutes later, and everything looks exactly the same, except now, they’re both leaning in to hold each other. Mickey’s face is turned away and hidden from her view by Ian’s head, so she can’t tell if he’s still awake, but Ian definitely is. His mouth is pressed to Mickey’s shoulder, eyes wide open and staring blankly at the wall, and he’s running his hand over Mickey’s back like it’s second nature. They don't notice her this time, and she worries about them as she heads to bed.

\---

She never actually figures out what was wrong that night. Ian and Mickey both seem fine the next time she sees them, and they never acknowledge how upset they both were, and she can’t figure out how to bring it up.

She doesn’t really know Ian that well, as weird as it may sound, considering she’s lived with him for her entire life -- minus when he ran off with various men or Monica, when she got engaged, or when either of them went to jail. She loves her brother, but she’s never really understood him, and that’s something she’s only felt bad about a couple times in her life, because _no one_ actually understands Ian.

Once, when Liam was a little younger and Ian was hanging onto his sanity by a thread after he started taking his meds again post-van-bomb, Ian went out and Liam told them he’d been googling bipolar disorder and asked if Ian was a lot different before he got sick. It hit her and Fiona hard for a couple reasons, because they realized that he _really_ didn’t remember Monica that well if he heard bipolar for the first time because of Ian and had to google to figure out what it meant, and they also had to admit that they couldn’t answer his question, because they spent more time with Ian in the months after he got sick than they did in the years before he did, and he was keeping so many secrets from them that they weren’t sure what the truth actually was.

She sometimes wonders if Ian _did_ change a lot. She always saw him as the one who had his shit together. He was the one that worked, _and_ went to school, _and_ was friends with the girl who, looking back, she probably had a little bit of a prepubescent crush on. He never brought around trashy girls that overstayed their welcome, and after the fiasco with Jimmy’s dad that was burned into her brain for a couple months, there were no trashy guys, either. Not like the ones Fiona and Lip brought home. He went out sometimes, and there was that summer right before he ran away and got sick where he was never really around, but he was 16, and Fiona said it was normal.

But then he got sick, and he was getting high and acting crazy, letting Mickey sleep on the floor and not paying attention to the fact that everyone else in the family was falling apart, refusing to acknowledge the problem, and giving her months of nightmares with that goddamn bat. She was _scared_ of Ian for a while, but part of her wondered if Ian just couldn’t hide all his shit when everyone started watching him like they’d never bothered to in the past.

She’s actually thought about asking Lip that same question a time or two. She wonders if he’d be able to answer it. She wonders if Ian was always as put together as she thought he was when she was a kid. She can’t be sure, because Fiona always seemed like the most responsible person on earth when Debbie was younger, and that illusion faded pretty steadily over time. They all thought Lip would have a future that the rest of them could only dream of, but she watched him breeze his way into school, then fight to have his chance at every step, only to ruin it when he started drinking too much. But she remembers that when they were younger and taking bets on who would be the one to inherit Monica’s crazy, the only one none of them ever mentioned was Ian, so maybe he _did_ have it together when he was a teenager. Maybe he was, once upon a time, the Gallagher family anomaly that was actively doing everything he could to make something of himself.

She never asks. She’s not sure she really wants to know how thoroughly Ian was destroyed by their mother, but she’s also not sure she’d ever be able to get a real answer, because no one understands Ian.

But sometimes, she sees Mickey touch the back of Ian’s neck when he’s getting worked up, and she watches the tension drain out of her brother. Sometimes, she catches them sharing a long hug by the door when Ian’s down enough to feel miserable but not down enough to call in for a sick day. Sometimes, she walks into the room when they’re talking or dancing or kissing, and she sees a smile on Ian’s face that she doesn’t remember ever seeing before Mickey came back around this last time. Sometimes, she wonders if Mickey _does_ understand Ian. If anyone did, it would be him. 

**+1. Ian**

The house is a shithole. 

The floors are sticky, and the old, nasty wallpaper is peeling all over the place. There are stains on the ceiling and a full blown abandoned meth lab in the basement, and certain rooms remind Ian a little too much of the flop house he and Monica stayed in for a few weeks, but the kitchen appliances work, there are no nosy family members running around, and the bedroom is big enough for their brand new bed to fit without being shoved into the corner.

The house is a shithole, but it’s theirs.

Ian has no idea how they got here. Mickey claims that someone that’s somehow related to him left it in his will because he didn’t have a wife or kids and felt bad that Mickey wasn’t going to have claim to any of Terry’s shit when he kicks it just because he’s gay, and Ian can’t decide if he believes it or not. The state of the house is familiar, just based on the standards of all the Milkoviches he knows, but it’s hard to believe that someone loyal to Terry would go out on a limb for the son that he despises so much, even in death. Still, Ian’s not too eager to do any investigating.

The house is only a four minute walk from the Gallaghers’, so they’ll probably go back and forth a lot while they fix it up. They patched the walls up and replaced the broken windows so they could turn the heat on, and they thoroughly cleaned the bedroom so they could bring the mattress in, but that’s as much as they thought about it, too caught up in their excitement to remember the more practical things that need to get done before they can move in.

Ian is kind of terrified of the showers, for one, and he’s not going anywhere near them until they’re fixed up. He made Mickey promise the bathrooms would be the first places they tackle, but he’s feeling like it’s going to turn into more than a deep clean. A few days after they looked at the place for the first time, Ian came home from work early and Mickey slammed their laptop shut so fast Ian was _sure_ he was gonna find some fucked up, kinky porn that Mickey’s afraid to admit he’s into, but instead, he found half a dozen youtube tutorials on how to rewire kitchen and bathroom fixtures when he checked the history.

So even though the place is disgusting, and his future probably holds a very daunting renovation with his overzealous husband, he wouldn’t trade it for the world, because here’s, possibly, the most important thing: The bedroom has a real door.

Sure, it’s their house, and they have privacy now, but Ian’s not naive enough to think his family won’t be in their space all the time. If Mickey gets his way, they’ll probably have the nicest house of all of his siblings and they’ll be stuck hosting every family dinner from now on, and Frank is sure as fuck gonna try something when he finds out about it, but that doesn’t matter now.

Now, he’s waking up with his husband in _their_ new home, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

Mickey’s still asleep when Ian wakes up, and he lets him be. They both took the day off, and they’ll probably spend most of their time scrubbing the house down and getting rid of all the garbage, but it’s early, and they have plenty of time. Mickey can sleep in if he wants, and Ian can cuddle his husband if he wants.

The mattress is the only thing in the house that they’ve brought in so far. It’s in the middle of the floor so they won’t have to move it when they get around to painting, and it’s laying on the plastic that covered it when they bought it and begged Kev to let them use his truck to get it here. They splurged on a king size, less because they desired more space to sleep and more because it was just this _thing_ that they wanted, and they’ve been saving, so they had the money to make it happen. Plus, play fights and aggressive sex will no longer end with one of them on the floor or smashing against the wall. They tested that out last night.

Ian shifts up, leaning on the arm that’s been trapped between them all night and resting his head on Mickey's arm. Their hands are linked, their rings right up against each other’s. It’s something he’s probably seen a thousand times by now, but it always warms his chest. They went through so much shit, but they got here, and they’re so fucking happy.

It’s still hard sometimes. It’s probably never really gonna be easy with them. Terry is still breathing, and Ian’s still got about 34 years, give or take, until he might _possibly_ be able to keep his shit together without heavy medication, but that’s shit they’re gonna deal with together now, forever.

Ian tightens his grip, kisses Mickey’s neck. He’s slept long enough.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! i've wanted to write for this fandom for a while, but i was always scared that i wouldn't be able to nail ian and mickey's dynamic. i couldn't get this idea out of my head, though, so here it is. please let me know how i did!
> 
> [my tumblr](https://ianscurls.tumblr.com/)


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